The German cadet: part 2, military life by thadeusz

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Two days before the end of my "three weeks" period in this Institute, on a Saturday, I was called to the office of the Colonel commanding the whole Institution.

My father was there with Linda, his secretary. I smelled a rat !

My dear father explained painfully that Linda and himself were now married. He also said that he now had a full time permanent job, a "great job", with his new company. That we would thus definitely stay in the USA. And finally, that I had thus to stay in this excellent Institute despite my (then) poor knowledge of English. I was stunned and simply asked:
"Father, you could not send me back to my own country and place me there in a boarding school where I could be with other German boys and girls, as before ?"
I said that in German and I was certain the Colonel could not understand.
But my father replied, in English:
"Berni, that would be too difficult. You will stay here. The company for which I now work is going to pay most of the expenses. That is part of my additional benefits. I love you."
The Colonel told me then, in English:
"Cadet Reubart you can go now. Join Master Sergeant Jones who will take you back to CLOTHING where you will get the rest of the equipment a cadet must receive. Be careful, the uniform elements are lent to you by the Marine Corps until you join this corp if you so decide, as we all hope you will do. GO now."
I kissed my father rather coldly, avoided Linda and tried to leave when the Colonel called me back shouting:
"Cadet, I think you are forgetting something !"
I knew what he meant ! I made an ‘about turn’, respecting the rules taught by Master Sergeant Jones. I saluted everybody in a military fashion, made another more or less perfect ‘about turn’ and left this room. I did not let them see that I felt like crying !

Master Sergeant Jones was present and he had seen my reaction, more than my own father had done. The Master Sergeant realized how I felt. He behaved very kindly, which was not in his nature, and he led me towards the CLOTHING department. There I received additional pieces of clothing : the "service uniform" and the "dress blue uniform". I also received an ugly jacket. It was of a red color with a sort of mustard color to mark the collar, the pockets, the waist and the sleeves. I was really in despair when I realized that I had been sentenced by my own father to wear such ugly clothes, and to wear them during the two following years !

The "service uniform" consisted of black dress shoes to be worn with black socks, and no longer khaki long socks with khaki boots. There was also a set of green trousers with a web belt and a short sleeve khaki shirt. There was a place on this shirt for rank insignia, ribbons and badges … if I ever got them. For the time being there was only a nametag "B. REUBART" in yellow on a red background. On top of it came a green garrison cap.

The "Blue Dress uniform" consisted of the same black shoes and socks, but it had to be worn with blue trousers provided with a white web belt for cadets who were not officers, which was my case. There was also a blue dress coat with epaulets and, if appropriate, with rank insignia etc. There was of course a high collar device and a frame cap with a white cover.
When I received all that I asked the Master Sergeant if I would have to wear all that every day. He simply answered:
"The service uniform, every afternoon. The dress uniform is only for ceremonies."
This good but severe instructor noticed that I was on the verge of crying and said.
"Now that you have your service uniform and your Academy jacket, you might apply for some free time with your friend, Cadet Julian Lopez, if you behave well. That means disciplinary and academically."

When that was done, the Master Sergeant took me once again to the BARBER. There, he told the Sergeant Barber the following:
"This boy, Cadet Reubart, is from now on a permanent Cadet in this Academy and he will stay here until he gets his final diploma. Give him thus an appropriate induction cut, but don’t shock him: he is already very sad because he realized that his father has more or less abandoned him here. We don’t want to make him a rebel, we simply want to make a good Marine out of this boy."

The Sergeant-Barber replied saying:
"I like that."

He pushed me rather brutally in his chair and caped me very brutally, saying:
"You thought a few weeks ago that you could escape my excellent induction haircut. Well, you will get one NOW and you will get more in the near future."
This Barber took his clippers and took it without any guard. He showed me his instrument to let me see what would happen to what remained of my hair. He then started methodically to shave every bit of hair I still had. It did not last long and I felt like crying. In fact I felt very bad more because I had been abandoned by my own father than because I was on the verge of losing all my hair. The Barber pushed, pulled and turned my head in all possible directions and I did not react: I was really in a state of shock. My initial 3 weeks stay was going to become a 3 years stay in an institution with a military type discipline which I hated.

Suddenly, the Barber-Sergeant pulled me out of his chair and uncapped me. He told me:
"Cadet, pass your hand on your head, everywhere."
I had understood that I better obey such orders and I did it, feeling only stubbles. The Barber went on:
"Now you look like a future Marine. Do you like that ? Did I do a good job shaving your hair ?"
I was furious but I felt that a "NO" answer would not be acceptable, so I simply said:
"I don’t understand", which was false !
The barber reacted as follows:
"You will soon understand. In any case I want to see you again for a good shaving every second Friday afternoon. Understood this ?"
"Yes" and after a few second I realized that I better added "Sir"
"I am not an officer, so you better say ‘YES SERGEANT’ and also shout it. Understood ?"
Well I knew I was cornered, so I shouted:
"YES SERGEANT"
After that, my Master Sergeant brought me back to my room while I held my new clothes in a big green bag.

During the days and weeks and months that followed, I had to follow the Academy routine: cleaning my part of the room, going through military education, sports and classical school training. I hated this situation, but I had no choice.

One fact made my life bearable. On the one hand, Julian, the boy born in Mexico but who wanted now to become a US citizen, was glad with his situation: in fact he wanted to be in a military school that would help him later become a US Marine officer. On the other hand, I, the boy born in Germany but who was going to be made a US citizen by his father, hated the Army but wanted to study in one of the great US universities. Despite our differences, Julian and I rapidly became excellent friends for life.

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